Motivation

Since celebrating National Pancake Day, nothing blogworthy has really happened. I’m completely unmotivated at work. I put off grocery shopping through the weekend and this week, until Jenn and Phil came over for dinner last night, in which I realized the food in my house would not suffice for three people. I now realize that while I like to cook, I hate to grocery shop. I also hate to wash dishes. The pile created by last night’s dinner is still strewn about my kitchen. I like the satisfaction of having a clean kitchen, it’s just really hard to get the motivation to make it happen.

I don’t know if you can make yourself be motivated or if it’s just something that happens, but regardless, I’m going to make myself motivated this weekend. I have to make a trip to Target and a Hobby Lobby, two places fairly far away from my apartment. All rooms in my apartment also need to thoroughly cleaned. We’re talking dusting, vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing, the whole nine yards. Lastly, and certainly not leastly, I need to watch the commentary on seasons one and two of The Office. Oh yes, folks, it’s going to be a busy weekend. And enormously exciting to boot.

I think writing about it has already made me a little motivated to get this all done. Remind me to write about it again tomorrow night so this might actually happen.

On a side note, I think this is the most fragmented post I've ever written.

Oy.

Celebrate

Tomorrow is Pancake Day (or at least it is in Denver). Normally I wouldn’t be excited about this, or even know about this random holiday (no matter if it’s incorrect or not—I realize that International Pancake Day is in February), but that was before I was introduced to Snooze.

Snooze is this restaurant a couple blocks from my apartment that serves amazing breakfast food. More specifically, it makes the most amazing pancakes. They serve everything from peanut butter and chocolate, white chocolate and raspberry, to the crème de la crème…pineapple upside down pancakes. I’ve always liked pancakes, but this place makes me want eat pancakes everyday for breakfast. They’re fluffy on the inside and crispy on the outside and served with flavored butters (like cinnamon or honey and ginger). In addition to pancakes, they also have omelets, burritos, fresh squeezed orange juice, and a tasty little dish called molten chocolate french toast (topped with bananas and walnuts).

Tomorrow, in celebration of Pancake Day, Snooze is serving 12 different kinds of pancakes. 12. Different. Kinds. Of. Pancakes. There was talk in the office today of an early morning breakfast meeting tomorrow. I realize it wasn’t an entirely serious conversation, but it seems unfair to Pancake Day to suggest something like the possibility of picking from a dozen different kinds of pancakes and then not follow through.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

It Really Is A Small World After All

There has been several discussions amongst my coworkers about the “small town” feel that exudes from Denver. Apparently, a lot people think that Denver is small town. At this point in the conversation, I like to tell people if they think that a metro area of almost a million people is small town, they need to visit my hometown with me to realize what small town really feels like. 217 people is small town, the Denver-Metro area is not.

Obviously I don’t see Denver as small town. Every face I see walking down the street is a stranger. It doesn’t help that I know very few people in Denver, but even if I did, the majority of the people I pass on the street everyday would be indistinguishable for the next person I passed. That’s one of the things I like about small town, among so many other things, you actually see people you know. People say hello when they pass one another on the street. You can go to the bar and strike up a conversation, that has actual merit to it, with a someone, not just small talk.

After today, however, I have to rethink my scope of Denver. It could be more “small town” than I previously thought.

After work today, I headed downtown, first to run some errands, and secondly to try and help curb my new obsession with The Office. I was headed down to the Virgin Megastore (the closest store that actually sells DVDs) to get seasons one and two of the TV show to try and make up for the fact I unintentionally missed the series premiere last night. Once I got to the 16th Street Mall, I was still six or seven blocks away from the store, so I hopped aboard the free shuttle service that runs the length of 16th Street. Two or so blocks from my stop I noticed a guy walking down the sidewalk and thought he looked a lot like a kid I went to high school with. Rationalizing my thoughts I realized this was Denver and that there was a very slim chance that one of the 31 people I graduated with was walking down the sidewalk of a major shopping center at the exact time I was riding the bus down said street. I mean, it sort of looked like him but, who knows how much people change in almost 5 ½ years. There was no way it was actually someone I knew, that would just be too crazy.

I got off the bus and stood waiting for the stoplight when I heard a voice behind me say “Kathryn?” When I turned around, well, what do you know? The guy I saw walking down the street was in fact one of my high school classmates. In the year and half I’ve been in Denver, this has never happened. I’ve seen a couple of my coworkers from a distance walking downtown (where they still live and work), but never has something this random and out of the blue happened. I shop at the same supermarket as one of my current coworkers as well as one of my former coworkers and haven’t seen them the eight months I’ve been shopping there. What better place to run into people, but the grocery store? Yet every face (with the exception of some of the checkers) is completely foreign to me.

My mom (in true “small town” fashion) ran into Dan’s mom at the grocery store, or somewhere like that, a couple of months ago and told her that Dan was in Denver going to school. So I knew he was in the city, but I never would have thought I would very randomly run into him. We spent a couple of minutes catching up (as much as you can do amongst the throngs of late afternoon Friday shoppers trying to maneuver around the only two stationary people in the crowd) and promised to have drinks sometime to actually catch up. It was one of those moments that was so unexpected, it almost seemed wrong for it to last five or ten minutes.

We went our separate ways, and as I looked for The Office (unsuccessfully I should add; Megastore my ass), I couldn’t believe what had just happened. After today’s events, I’m going to have to admit defeat to my coworkers. If I can run into one of my fellow 31 high school classmates in the middle of Denver, then maybe it really is the small town of all the major cities in the country.

Is gooood yeaaah?

Call me crazy, but I can’t wait to see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.

My previous boyfriend was a huge Ali G (or more accurately Sacha Baron Cohen) fan. He owned both seasons of Da Ali G Show on DVD and laughed hysterically every time he watched. In the beginning I didn’t find the show nearly as amusing as he did. Generally I’m not a huge fan of, what I call, awkward humor. Humor based on making other people feel completely uncomfortable, I used think this was not-so-funny. This, however, is no longer the case. Now it’s just plain funny.

For those of you who may not be acquainted with Cohen, he’s a British actor who portrays three roles on his TV show. Ali G is a Jamaican-English “gansta”, Bruno, the gay, Austrian fashion show presenter and Borat, a Kazakhstani reporter. Those who interact or who are interviewed by any of Cohen’s personalities have no idea they’re being played. This is perhaps the most remarkable thing about the show. Ali G manages to score interviews with people like Gore Vidal, Donald Trump, Boutros Boutros-Ghali, and Andy Rooney. The guy freakin’ asks the Secretary General of the UN (after introducing him as Boutros Boutros Boutros Boutros-Ghali) if Disneyland is part of the UN, and he calls Buzz Aldrin, Buzz Lightyear. Once I got past the awkwardness of all these interviews I just had to wonder, how did Ali G get past all of these peoples’ agents? Do your research people!

So, eventually I could watch the shows and not feel uncomfortable about each interview or encounter Cohen’s characters have with various cross sections of the world. Once I crossed that hurdle I realized that Da Ali G Show is more of a sociological experiment than a comedy sketch show. The most interesting aspect being the different ways people reacted to each individual. People got downright bitchy with Ali G; people were a little more tolerant of Borat’s antics, but still many became thoroughly offended when they figured out his not-so-hidden sexual innuendo driven requests. It seems that people are most tolerant and patient with Borat. He says things that are, most times, patently offensive, but it’s as if people merely brush it off because he’s that clueless foreigner; it’s okay because he doesn’t know any better. He’s not trying to be offensive, so they let it pass.

And that is why I’m so excited to see a whole film about him interacting with us clueless Americans. Maybe it’s that anthropological geek in me, but this movie is going to be hilarious. Watching people deal (I’m guessing not so gracefully) with the cultural “other” because they’re just as ignorant about it as the supposed foreigner will be funny and fascinating on so many levels, I’m so forking out $10 to see this one.

Fall

I know it’s not official until Saturday, and school started several weeks ago, but I think summer officially came to an end this weekend. Even if we technically have a couple days left of summer, fall has definitely arrived in my life.

At work, the fall session starts tomorrow and the office will once again be filled with energetic middle and high school students. The office has been completely sans youth for the last month. I don’t think I could have gone much longer without them around. The crew leaders were back two weeks ago, which also helped a tremendous amount. I never thought I would actually be glad to have temporary officemates who sing along to Pussycat Dolls using highlighters as microphones, hold dance-offs or play the same ‘chero song over and over again. Things are back to normal and not a moment too soon!

I think (and I know I run the risk of completely jinxing it by saying this) the heat wave is over. There is a certain feel in the air, a crisp coolness that hangs around longer than just the early morning hours. This morning, after a cool weekend and even cooler nights, the final sign of fall happened: the heat was turned on in my apartment building. The building is heated by steam radiators; as I was making my bed this morning, there was a subtle smell in the apartment I couldn’t quite place, but definitely recognized. Walking past the heat register, I quickly figured it out. The smell of metal slowly heating up was soon followed by a quiet hissing, and I realized I’ve never been so happy to know fall was here.

Living, sometimes working, and often driving, with no air conditioning this summer has never made me more eager to pull the sweaters from the top shelf of my closet or curl up in my slippers and polar fleece pants after actually cooking (!) dinner. I have also vowed to myself that as long as the days stay long enough, I will be walking to work unless it is absolutely necessary. A nice long walk on a brisk fall day is so wonderfully refreshing, I can’t believe how cliché it makes me sound.

Now if only I could skip the whole Ice-Planet-of-Hoth, bad road conditions with crazy drivers aspect of winter, I would be in stellar shape.

Also, everyone should head over to World O’ Trout to welcome him back to the blogosphere. A month and half without internet, I’m not sure how he did it. I would have gone crazy.

Kids These Days

I haven’t really used this blog for social commentary or ranting about too much. However, after reading this article, I have no choice. Sit back folks, because here comes a good old fashioned rant, a mini-soap box speech if you will.

Perhaps I’m a little biased because I was an RA and lived/worked in a residence hall, complete with roommates, single beds and communal bathrooms, for all four years of college. Yes, I will admit I only had a roommate for a semester and was fortunate enough (because of my 24/7 job) to share a bathroom with only one other person for two years of the four I was in school. I did however, despite my slightly upscale (for the school I was at, anyway) living arrangements, did have to deal with roommate conflicts on a weekly basis, and did for two years share a bathroom with 6-12 other girls.

I think there is a lot to be said about communal living. To me the whole college dorms experience is more than just a right of passage. I think that it is an excellent way for students to learn how to interact, live and work with other people. It teaches patience and cooperation, compromise, etc, etc. All of which will undoubtedly help you once you enter the “real world.” Like I said, I only had a roommate for a semester (when she left school, her spot was never filled, I didn’t opt to have a single room, I just lucked out in that sense), but I did share a room with one of my sisters for all but my last year of high school and a couple summers when I home from college. I’ve experience the whole “roommate” dynamic for a good long time. I’m trying not to a hypocrite in this post.

Roommate conflicts and even floor conflicts became an increasing problem every year that I worked for Residence Life. Talking amongst other RAs, we came to the conclusion that people just don’t know how to live with one another. They grew up with their own rooms, and when they’re suddenly put into an environment where they not only have a roommate, but have to live on a floor with 50 other people, many times the basic, common courtesies just don’t exist or took awhile to establish themselves. Most of the conflicts were resolved, but other times you’d just be left in a state of disbelief. Are people really that incapable of sharing with others? Can people not interact with others on any level?

Of course this doesn’t happen all the time, I was lucky enough to have, as a whole, great floors where the majority of the people got a long. When my residents moved off campus, many of them chose to live with one another. If you can survive in a dorm room with one another, living in an apartment should be no sweat.

But this whole luxury living thing just floors me. For one thing, it’s not setting up very realistic expectations for students once they enter the real world. Few students on getting their first job and moving into that first apartment will be able to find a place with granite counter tops, swimming pools, fire places and designer furniture that is affordable. And if they can find a place like that, hiring some one on top of that to clean the places and even do their laundry is a whole other expense and expectation. Secondly, luxury apartment-like dorms don’t promote community. That’s what I loved most about living in the dorms. Sure, I wanted to pull my hair out sometimes because of the loud music or when people trashed the elevators or lobbies, but I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything. It was hard enough to get community started in our halls because so many kids came for the same town, knew one another in high school and remained in their little social circles. I can’t imagine how difficult it would have been if everyone had their own rooms and bathrooms and never had any reason to come out and social with the rest of the “rooms.”

This is going to make me sound like a bitter senior citizen, and I realize I’m not that far distanced in age from this college population, but I think the youth of today (or at least the ones who can afford to live in luxury dorm rooms and pay people to move their stuff for them and arrive at school in an f-ing limo) have this sense of entitlement they feel they’ve earned simply because they exist.

Maybe it’s the way I was raised, but I feel like you should have to do at least a little bit for what you have in life. I know I certainly haven’t had it hard in my life in any extent, but I can do my own laundry, clean my apartment and do my own grocery shopping. I don’t consider those things to be the tough things about life. If, for whatever reason, laundry, cleaning and groceries are the biggest forms of adversity in your life you must face, well consider yourself the luckiest person on the whole planet, quit whining and remember to separate your colors from your whites; no one wants pink socks. And if someday you can afford to have someone else do all of that for you, great, fantastic, more power to you. If you have to do all those monotonous, mundane chores for yourself at some point in your life, something tells me you won’t be a worse person for it. If anything, you might actually gain something from it.

Thank you.

[gives bow, steps off of soap box, picks up soap box, remembers she has laundry in the washing machine, exits stage left]

The Best of What’s Around

I love the Dave Matthews Band. You will hear no apologies from me about this, you cannot convince me otherwise. These guys just plain kick ass. I know there are plenty of skeptics out there; I realize some of you may think that DMB is just the group that filled the void for all those half-baked white guys who had nowhere to go or nothing to bob their heads to once Phish stopped touring. I realize that DMB’s fan base has been largely infiltrated by frat boys in their identical polo shirts (or “vintage” t-shirts), cargo shorts and baseball caps who raise their plastic cups of beer and chant “Daaaaaave, play What Would You Say!!!” I could care less about all that, I’ve loved this band since the 8th or 9th grade, and my kids will undoubtedly think I’m lame because I’m still listening “that one band.” I’m not a stoner or a frat boy, but this girl from small town America loves her some Dave Matthews Band.

Last night, after waiting since I was 14, I finally saw DMB in concert. Jenn, Phill and I tried to get tickets last year at one of their three shows at Red Rocks, but the tickets sold out in 11 minutes. We didn’t have a chance. This year, playing at a larger venue—The Pepsi Center—Jenn, Phil and I managed to get decent seats.

I won’t go on and on about this concert like I did the Paul McCartney concert, but I can’t end this post without saying a couple of things:

• I now understand why people love to see these guys in concert. They are tight, one second they’ll be 10 minutes into a crazy jam (but still maintaining the integrity of the song) and in the span of a couple beats, if that, they’re back into the melody of the song, even if it includes switching time signatures or musical styles. They were completely together, 100% of the time. Amazing.
• As a result of the previous statement, I now have to go buy every live CD they have released. Listening to the studio albums is no longer enough.
• If one can rock out on a violin, Boyd Tinsley did it.
• Watching Carter Beauford play the drums makes me wish I could play the drums, or at the very least, have half of his rhythm.
• It’s amazing you can understand Dave Matthews when he sings, because you can hardly understand one word when he talks.
• I’ve now heard my favorite song of all time played live. Yeah, I realize the song is about a peeping Tom, and I feel a little skeezy singing along to it, but the guitar combined with the violin, percussion and upright bass, I get goosebumps every time I hear it. I actually let out a squeal when they started to play it. Yeah, that’s right, I squealed.

Okay, so I think my brief recap ended up being just as long, or longer than the other post, but I’m done gushing about my one concert outing of the year, seriously. I’m done now.

You may return to your regularly scheduled program.

Something to Hang on My Fridge

I’ve been published.

One of the pictures I took at the Dog Daze event a couple of weeks ago made it into the Highlands Ranch YourHub newspaper this week. Not only that, but the pictures are being put into rotation on the Highlands Ranch website as well.

I know it’s not a huge deal, but it is a kind of fun to see the pictures somewhere other than my computer or my blog.

What? No Lollipop?

Yesterday, I did something I have never done as an adult. After over seven months of having health benefits, I actually went to the doctor.

My throat, and more specifically the glands under my chin and around my neck, have been a little sore and/or swollen for the last couple of months. I didn’t think much of it, and just ignored it, or I did until this weekend. While lounging around with Trout this weekend, somewhere between discussions about the possibility of killing polar bears with handguns and the award for best ass and facial stubble on a (supposedly) deserted island, the pain turned from occasional annoyance to constant discomfort.

Seeing that it was visibly bothering me, Trout suggested I go to the doctor when I got back to Denver. My initial thought was that I couldn’t go to the doctor because I wasn’t really sick. Sure, the thought had crossed my mind a couple times over the months when I realized that I still had swollen glands or a sore throat, but this was nothing major; just a minor nuisance that eventually went away, even if just for a short time. This was not a problem worthy of going to get looked at.

Growing up, we only went to the doctor if it was absolutely necessary. On top of that, the doctor I saw on a much more regular basis wasn’t my pediatrician, but my neurosurgeon. Going to the doctor today still makes me nervous. I think subconsciously, upon seeing the three year old magazines among the mauve and teal upholstered waiting room chairs, my body prepares itself for the worst, even though the worst rarely happened. I don’t like getting that knotted feeling in my stomach, I try to avoid that whenever possible. In short, visits to the doctor were for the serious stuff. Even if the thought of going crossed my mind over the last couple of months, I never seriously considered it. Sore throat? Drink some water and suck on some Vitamin C drops, and you’ll be just fine!

Back in the office on Tuesday, having been sidelined from doing any work due to lack of email and internet, I jumped into uncharted territory and made an appointment. Somehow I managed to not only get the doctor I wanted, but I got an appointment that morning. Now that everything is said and done, I have to say it really wasn’t too bad of an experience and I’m glad I went. For a minimal fee I was given peace of mind and a clean bill of health; just a slightly agitated throat due to allergens and other unhappy things in the air. It may have taken me many months to figure out this particular perk of the job, but now I know why they’re called benefits.

Except that whole unexpected tetanus shot I had to get, that wasn’t so cool. Since I now see a doctor of internal medicine and not a pediatrician, I didn’t get a lollipop (or even a cool band-aid) either. I guess it’s not always advantageous to be an adult.

PPA Falls

Unfortunately, I didn't get a good picture of the actual Falls, the zoom on my camera just wasn't quite good enough to capture it.

The next time Trout and I take this hike, we're going to the top of the Falls and I'm swimming in that little pool in the top picture. 

One Year

A little over a year after we first met, Trout and I started dating. In a series of events that could (to quote Trout, and to which I will completely agree) comprise a novel, our friendship finally turned into a relationship over Labor Day Weekend 2005.

To celebrate this milestone, Trout and I spent the weekend relaxing in the 5400. We drank wine and ate yummy cheeses (who knew there was decent brie out there, and it’s even better with Mango chutney on it) with Trout's new coworkers, some friends and family, hiked up to some gorgeous waterfalls and pools (pictures will follow this post because, well, let’s face it, I like showing off pretty pictures), played cards with Trout’s step-brother and his wife (Chad, you’re going down next time; Trout lucked out for second place with that last hand) and got Trout good and addicted to Lost. It was a perfect mix of activity and laziness that I think both of us desperately needed.

This weekend’s activities were, quite possibility, the polar opposite of what happened last year. I could launch into a very long post on what exactly went on last Labor Day that made it so freakin’ amusing. But out of respect for some certain people who were at a certain party at a certain person’s house in a certain college town, I shall refrain. I will, however, say that the evening’s entertainment involved Boon’s Farm, homemade watermelon wine and someone everyone lovingly referred to as Mrs. Boogie. Good times!

Looking back at this weekend’s events and where I’m at now and how that compares to a year ago, it hardly even seems like my life. I am in such a better place now, I can’t even believe it. The biggest changes in my life have happened in the last 12 months, and Trout and that fateful weekend last September was just the beginning.

Happy Anniversary, honey!

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It's also worth noting this is my 100th post. Thanks for humoring me and sticking with this little venture of mine for so long. Your support and continued interest in my occasionally entertaining life is much appreciated.